


After The Storm

by thetamehistorian



Series: All Things In Balance [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Aphasia, Brain damage is not a joke IG-11, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, In this house we respect the Creed, post chapter 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetamehistorian/pseuds/thetamehistorian
Summary: The world was spinning and he was falling.The Imperial ship was falling too though so that was ok, maybe now the child would be safe. They were a clan now. Family. He could take off his helmet around the child.No other living thing could see his face, he had sworn the creed. IG-11 had seen him. IG was not alive.IG was dead.Post Chapter 8, Din isn't doing so well.
Series: All Things In Balance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604062
Comments: 165
Kudos: 1313
Collections: Movies





	1. I See You When You're Down

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, I accidentally wrote this on my phone in under an hour instead of sleeping because our favourite space dad got pretty messed up in that episode and brain damage is not a joke IG-11.  
> All Mando'a translations are available on hover and in the end notes.  
> Warning - this fic does contain vomiting - if that’s not for you then please read with caution.
> 
> I post occassionally on [Tumblr](https://thetamehistorian.tumblr.com/)  
> Catch me hanging out on CoffeeQuill's Discord

The world was spinning and he was falling.

The Imperial ship was falling too though so that was ok, maybe now the child would be safe. They were a clan now. Family. He could take off his helmet around the child.

No other living thing could see his face, he had sworn the creed. IG-11 had seen him. IG was not alive.

IG was dead.

He fumbled for the button on his bracer to reignite the jetpack and found it just in time. The landing wasn’t graceful, but it was as gentle as possible, considering.

The world did not stop spinning.

Instead of rising, he found himself falling forward instead, hands flailing, reaching, grasping for solid ground. He found it, planted himself on it, let his head hang and breathed heavy.

The world still kept stubbornly spinning.

Footsteps, running, heading his way.

“Mando?”

He tensed again, ready to fight if he had to before the voice registered. Cara. Safe.

Hands, brushing over his pauldrons, steadying him as he swayed.

“Mando?” Was that concern in her voice? “You alright in there?”

He opened his mouth to speak but what came out was more a croak than anything. He breathed, swallowed, tried again.

“Dizzy.”

“Dizzy?” Cara repeated, then sounding further away, she must be talking to someone else, “hey, you got a med kit?”

“Not here,” Karga said from somewhere to his right. The child cooed from the same direction. He must be holding the little one. That was good. Knowing the little one was alright took some of the weight from his shoulders.

“Anything else wrong Mando?”

Cara’s voice sounded much louder, a side glance revealed that she was leaning down, her head next to his own.

Another breath. Everything hurt. He was fairly sure that under his clothing were more bruises than skin but nothing was jumping out at him.

Slowly, he shook his head.

“Can you stand?” Cara asked, adjusting her grip on his shoulders as though to haul him upright. The movement hurt, but that was nothing new. What was new was the turning and twisting in his stomach. It was a sensation he was familiar with and he tried to pull away from Cara’s hold.

“Think I’m gonna be sick,” he gasped out when Cara resisted.

“Shit,” Cara said, helping him shift down back to the ground. “Turn your back.”

“What?” Karga asked with incredulity in his tone.

“Your back,” Cara hissed. Then, to him. “We won’t look, I swear it.”

There was a quiet ‘oh’ of realisation from Karga and the sound of boots scuffing in the dirt as Cara carefully extricated one of her hands from where it was supporting him.

“My eyes are shut and covered Mando.”

It would have to be enough, he would have to trust them, because they were out of time. He scrabbled with one hand to get the helmet up far enough and then he was retching.

It was miserable and it jarred every bruise and when it was over he slumped back against Cara, breathing heavily, letting the helmet drop back into place. If anything he felt worse than before. He shut his eyes against the wobbling sky.

“Is it safe Mando?” Cara asked and he could hear the strain in her voice. “Helmet on?”

“Yeah.” If she wasn’t sure, the modulated sound of his voice should be proof enough.

He heard her moving, shifting him so that he laid back against her chest.

“Still dizzy?”

“Yes.”

A sigh, resigned. “You need a medic Mando.” A pause as she shifted. “At least you’re not bringing up blood.”

He hadn’t even thought about that, but everything seemed muted and his thoughts kept slipping from his grasp. The noises outside his helmet sounded increasingly distant.

“Mando? Mando!” With a jolt he fell back into himself. Cara’s voice was loud, panicked, she was shaking him slightly.

“I’m ok.”

“No you’re not,” she shot back, ceasing in her movements. “Thought you’d passed out for a moment there. You need to stay awake Mando, you might have a concussion.”

He’d be surprised if he hadn’t by this point.

“There’s a med kit on the Razor Crest.”

Even though the modulator he could hear the slur to his words.

“Ok,” Cara said, “that closer than yours Karga?”

“Considerably.”

“Right,” there was a hint of steel back in her voice and for a moment he could see her in the war, commanding and immovable. “We’ve got to get you fixed up. Do you think you can stand up now?”

Could he? He’d have to. The alternative was staying here, alone and vulnerable.

“Think so.”

She moved, pulling one of his arms over her shoulders, her own wrapping around his waist.

“On three then. One. Two. Three!”

She pulled and he pushed up and his body screamed at him for it. The world span and blurred but by the time it settled he was upright, if swaying in Cara’s grip.

“You going to be sick again?” she asked.

He gave the question due consideration. He felt lightheaded and dizzy but although his stomach was rebelling at the movement it wasn’t as bad as before and after a few shallow gasps of air it settled.

“No.”

“Alright then,” Cara said. “A hand, Karga?”

Someone grabbed his free arm and slung it around another broad set of shoulders. From the corner of his eye he could see the child snuggled safely in the bag, strapped to Karga’s front and watching him with wide eyes.

The journey to the Razor Crest took much longer than he thought it would. His world narrowed down to the simple action of putting one foot in front of the other until he saw the familiar gleaming metal of his home instead of the ground.

Getting up onto his slab of a bed shouldn’t have been that hard.

“Where’s your med kit then?” Cara asked, eyes scanning the room.

“It’s under the, it’s under,” the word wouldn’t come. He knew it, could see it in his minds eyes but somewhere between there and his mouth it got lost in translation and slipped through his grasp.

“Mando?” The concern was back and it wasn’t until Cara told him to slow his breathing that he realised how close to hyperventilation he had been.

“Cara,” he gasped, catching hold of her hands because he knew the word, he did, “I, I can’t say it. I can’t. I can’t remember. The word. I can’t -“

He was panicking. He hadn’t panicked like this in a long time. The world grew fuzzy and distant again for a moment.

“It’s ok,” Cara was saying, softer now. “It’s ok, it’s probably the concussion. You’re alright. Describe it to me, use different words.”

Different words. He could do that.

“The thing, the control, that makes the ship go forwards.” Why couldn’t he say it?

“The thruster control you mean?”

“Yeah, the -“ he choked, the word still wouldn’t come. Cara’s fingers rubbed gently over the back of his hands through the gloves.

“In the cockpit,” she said over her shoulder to Karga, who was setting the child down in his little nook.

“On it,” the guild leader said, heading for the ladder.

“Cara, I,”

“It’s alright,” Cara interrupted softly. “You’re going to be alright.”

Through the panic and the pain Din didn’t need to see her face to know that she had just lied to him for the first time.


	2. I See You When You Hide

“Well,” Cara said, riffling through the med kit with dismay, “there’s not enough bacta here to fix you up. We’ll have to patch the worst of it and hope for the best.”

Beside them, the baby cooed softly and he absently reached a hand out to smooth across its ear. It had found that soothing in the past.

“I’ve survived worse.”

Cara snorted. “I don’t doubt that, but we wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty face for the kid, huh?”

He slowly titled to the side so that he could look down at the little womp rat where it was trying to climb into his lap. The Armourer had essentially made it official, but there was still one thing left to do before he could remove his helmet in front of the little one. He just hoped that his brain didn’t have any problems with the words of the _Gai bal manda_.

It would have to wait until they were alone.

With the scanner in one hand, Cara began to poke and prod at the gaps in his armour and he had to bite on his lip to prevent the small sounds of pain escaping as bruises and cuts protested at the treatment.

“Wow,” Cara said as she read the feedback from the device, “you really took a beating Mando. I’m impressed you were able to stand at all.”

The machine suddenly beeped loudly and they both looked down at the offending article. It took him a moment to spot it, there was a gash just above the poleyn over his knee. Hidden beneath the dark cloth of his trousers it hadn’t looked that bad but now he was noticing just how saturated the surrounding fabric was. With trembling fingers he pulled the fabric back to reveal a cut that was both deeper and longer than he had expected.

Cara whistled and reached for the kit and that was when the kid moved.

Before either of them could stop him he had pulled himself along his guardian’s leg and stopped, little hand out and eyes closed.

His first thought was that it felt strange – numb and tingling.

They could only watch in awe as the skin slowly knitted itself back together.

Then, with a small sound, the little one slumped back and with speed and instinct he wasn’t aware he possessed he caught the baby before he could fall. Sleepy eyes looked up at him and to his alarm the child reached out a hand again, towards his helmet, where the source of his headache was.

“No!” He captured the little one’s hand in his own and gently shushed its noise of protest. “Don’t risk yourself for me _ad'ika_. I’ll be alright. Cara will look after me.”

Cara stroked a finger over the child's head and it seemed to calm at her touch.

“Your dad is safe with me,” she said and he could hear the tease in her voice. “Promise.”

Their reassurances seemed to be enough because the child allowed him to tuck it back into the nest of blankets and then curled happily into his side and fell asleep.

“Huh,” Cara said, putting down the dressing she had pulled out, “I guess that solves one problem.”

He brushed his hand over the smooth skin with the cut have been and marvelled at the sensation.

“Not sure how we’re going to deal with that head wound of yours though.”

“I can clean it up,” he said, looking over at the small fresher. Cara followed his gaze.

“If you’re sure,” she said dubiously.

After his little breakdown over his inability to say certain words they had found a few others that wouldn’t come out right, or come out at all. It was frightening, to suddenly have lost that ability and knowledge but Cara, even practical, had quickly found a work around. The soft fabric in the fresher was now a dry-cloth because he didn’t have problems saying that, the control for the ship’s engines was dubbed the accelerator for the time being.

He’d calmed since then, knowing that this problem wasn’t an insurmountable barrier, just an incovenient one.

“I’m sure.”

“Alright then,” Cara began to pick things out of the med-kit and returned to his side, pulling his arm back over her shoulders. “Up you get.”

It still hurt to stand, he felt like one giant bruise by this point, tender and sore, but it wasn’t as bad as before and with the child’s unique brand of help, he could now walk properly.

Cara set the tools down on the side of the sink and backed up to the door.

“I hear anything funny then I’m covering my eyes and coming in,” she warned and then the door slid shut and he was alone.

Shaky hands moved to lift the helmet and he set it aside reverently before sucking in a steading breath and looking in the mirror.

He was a mess, but that was expected. Pulling off his gloves he twisted the taps and scooped up water, washing away the evidence of the fight with ginger movements. The water run away tinged pink and brown with blood and dirt.

Reaching back he brushed carefully around the tender spot on his head, wiping away dried and caked blood. Once he was sure it was clean he turned to look as best he could and was relieved to see there was no fresh bleeding. Pushing his hair away he found yet another bruise, but it didn’t look too bad. The bacta had done its job.

He dabbed some of the antibacterial gel on just in case and did his best to clean the rest of his hair.

“You alright in there?” Cara called. He must have been quiet for too long.

“Yes,” he replied, ignoring her sharp intake of breath at the sound of his unmodulated voice. “It’s not too bad. Bacta’s worked.”

“Good,” Cara replied as he cleaned his hands one last time and reached for his gloves and helmet.

The light from the rest of the ship hurt his eyes even behind the helmet after the dim illumination of the fresher, but he made it back to the bed under his own power with Cara hovering, ready, just in case.

“You should get some rest,” Cara said.

He nodded slowly in agreement. Now that the danger had passed and his injuries for the most part tended to, the exhaustion was catching up with him quickly. He let himself slowly capsize onto the small pillow, eyes closing without his permission.

“I would let you sleep,” Cara said as she moved the glass away. “But after your issues with remembering words I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

He nodded sleepily and resigned himself to a broken night.

“Wakey, wakey, Mando!”

The voice was far too bright and cheerful and his eyes felt gritty as he forced them open. He vaguely remembered being woken before, more than once, first by Cara, then by Greef Karga.

“Thought you were sleeping,” he croaked out as Cara pulled away.

“We’re taking shifts,” Cara said, hands helping him upright and steadying him as the world blurred and darkened briefly at the edges. “Sick?” she asked softly.

“No,” he replied as everything settled into a clear image, “just a little light-headed.”

“Ok,” she took his hands in hers. “Squeeze.”

He did, as hard as he could just to spite her for disturbing his rest yet again and wouldn’t deny the little spark of pleasure as she winced.

“Well, your co-ordination is clearly fine,” she said reaching for the glass on the table. “Say ‘surely the sun shall shine softly’.”

“What?”

“Just say it.”

He did, and he only tripped on the words once.

“Good enough,” she said, resigned, and handed the glass over. There was a straw that he vaguely remembered Karga bringing back with the bacta he’d liberated from the dead Stormtroopers. “You’ll be glad to hear that this will be the last wake up call.”

“We at twenty-four hours already?”

“Yep,” Cara confirmed, “you were pretty out of it for most of them, I’m not surprised if your memory is a little off.”

“That’s one word for it.”

In truth everything after the explosion outside the cantina was broken, fuzzy, and distant in his memory. He hoped it was just a symptom of one too many hits to the head and not a long-term thing. He’d have to find a medic if it didn’t resolve itself soon.

“Slow sips,” Cara warned as he lifted the drink.

The straw was quite a clever idea, a good solution so that he could drink with his helmet on. As suggested he drank slowly, overly aware of the tactically placed bucket beside the bed and of how miserable it had felt being sick earlier.

The moment ticked past with only the sounds of sipping and gentle snoring from the cockpit.

“I’m sorry.”

He lifted his head to look over at the former shock trooper in confusion.

“What for?”

Cara waved a hand lazily toward his head. “For trying to take your helmet off, back in the cantina. I know I joke about it a lot, but I get it. Back there, I wasn’t thinking, I just, just wanted to help. I knew it was important to you, but I didn’t realise just how much.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling unexpected warmth blossom in his chest and set the now nearly empty glass aside carefully.

His one clear memory of the time between landing and arriving at the ship was of Cara forcing Karga to look away so he didn’t have to betray his creed. No matter what she said, she would never understand how much that had meant to him.

“Cara, it’s ok.”

“I just, didn’t want to lose you and the kid needed you, needs you,” Cara continued as though he hadn’t spoken, voice rising and quickening with emotion.

“Cara,” he sharpened his tone to a snap and that caught her attention, cutting off the flow of words. “It’s fine. You were trying to save my life and I appreciate that.” He huffed a small laugh and reached out to take her hands again, squeezing with gentle pressure this time. “I’m glad I’m alive.”

She let out a shaky laugh and leaned against him, enjoying this sudden moment of calm.

“Me too Din,” she murmured quietly, just for him. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some comfort with your hurt!
> 
> Mando'a translations:  
> Gai bal manda – adoption ceremony  
> ad’ika – son / daughter / little one


	3. I See You When You Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are y'all ready for some found family feels? Cos there's a lot of found family feels here.
> 
> Thank you for all the kind comments!

He woke the following morning with the child curled up in the gap between his pauldron and his helmet. He could hear Greef talking in the kitchen and could smell something more substantial than a ration pack or rehydrated bread so it couldn’t be Cara cooking.

He’d had the dubious pleasure of her cooking on Sorgan. It wasn’t an experience he was keen to repeat.

With one hand on the child he carefully pushed himself upright and took stock. There were still a lot of aches and pains, but that was to be expected. Bruises didn’t vanish overnight, not like that slice in his leg had. His head felt better too, the headache and his stomach had settled and the fuzzy edge that had tainted the world had melted away. More importantly, his memories of the previous night were clear and the annoying ringing in his ears was gone.

Gently, he set the child back against the pillow and tucked the blanket more firmly around him, letting a finger brush gently against his ear in greeting.

Then, he tried standing.

A few muscles in his back immediately protested as he straightened and his ribs joined in when he tried to take a deeper breath.

“It’s a torn ligament in your back and three bruised ribs, if you were wondering.”

He glanced up to see Cara’s head hanging down from the hatch to the cockpit.

“Great,” he said after a moment of testing the movement of his limbs, nothing limited, just sore.

“We can leave some breakfast up here for you,” Cara offered after a moment, clearly enjoying herself, “that’s if you think you can manage the ladder, old man.”

“Don’t call me that,” he shot back instinctively, though lacking any real bite.

“Well,” Cara replied with a grin, “you’re sure moving like one right now.”

Helmet or no, there was no way she could misinterpret the look he was giving her. Sometimes he was disappointed that a glare couldn’t cause physical harm.

“When you two are quite finished,” Karga interrupted. “There’s some food ready.”

“Smells good, thank you,” he said and meant it, just as his stomach chose to remind him exactly how long it had been since he had last eaten. What with the firefight, the escape, then a whole twenty four hours spent hoping he didn’t in fact have serious brain injury and then another ten, if his HUD was to be believed, sleeping everything else off, food had fallen somewhat to the wayside.

None of this stopped the blood rushing to his cheeks at the rumble and he was extra glad that the helmet kept his face hidden.

“ _Kriff_ , just get yourself up here so you can eat something will you?” Cara said, swinging herself down and stepping aside.

The ladder was managable and when the hatch shut behind him and the sounds from below cut off, he slipped the helmet off and tucked in with gusto. It was good. Really good. He was suddenly glad the hatch cut off noise because it turned out Greef Karga really was a good cook and he was pretty sure that if she heard, Cara would hold some of the noises he was making over him indefinitely.

With a full meal and a night’s sleep behind him, he almost felt up for a fight again and he dropped down from the ladder perhaps a little harder than he should have done because gravity immediately reminded him that his back didn’t necessarily agree with his brain.

Not that his brain had emerged unscathed either. Cara had found some chalk and had written a list of words that he was struggling with on the back wall of the cockpit, along with the workarounds she’d created with him. So far he’d worked out that the issue was consistent across languages, those he couldn’t say in Basic he couldn’t say in Mando’a either. At least, from what he could tell, it wasn’t getting any worse and if anything else was going to develop then it would have by now.

He was going to keep trying to say them, of course, but he suspected he was going to have to learn to live with it.

The child had woken whilst he was eating and was settled happily in Cara’s arms, chewing on what looked like his amulet, which at least explained where that had gone.

“Better?” Cara asked.

“Much,” he replied, letting Greef take the empty plate away. “Thought you weren’t a baby person?”

“I’m not.” Cara shot him a look that dared him to argue. Instead, he let out a small huff of air.

“Make sure he doesn’t choke on that,” he said, and followed Greef into the kitchen before she could protest.

“So,” Greef said as he picked up a dry-cloth and wordlessly started wiping the dishes. “What is your plan now? You’re very welcome to stay, I could even get you back in the Guild if you wanted.”

“Thanks for the offer, but no,” he said, setting the last plate down with a sigh. “I’ve got something else I need to do.”

“The kid?” Karga asked and just shrugged with a little smile when he didn’t reply. “Well, you know where we are.” He reached for his belongings, propped up by the door and clearly packed earlier in the day. “I'm afraid that unless you need me, I’d better go and sort the rest of them out before they cause too much trouble."

“I understand,” he said, stepped back so Greef could get past and followed him as headed to the ramp controls, hit them release and took in deep breaths of Navarro air before stepping out of the Razor Crest.

“Are you sure you won’t stay for a little longer?” Greef asked, turning.

“I can’t,” he replied. “They’re not going to stop looking for him just because they lost a fight here and I won’t put anyone else at risk.”

Greef nodded, and then much to his surprise, held out a hand. “Well, in that case, it’s been an honour, Din Djarin.”

“ _Ret'urcye mhi_ , Greef Karga,” he replied and grasped the offered hand and shook.

With a small shake of his head at the Mando’a, Karga stepped back and away, giving the Razor Crest one last look before shouldering his pack and heading down the ramp towards the town.

Behind him, footsteps heralded the arrival of Cara.

“Here,” she said, offering him the child, “I think he wants you.”

He took the bundle, settling the child into the crook of his arm and couldn’t stop a small smile at the happy noise the baby made as it reached to brush a hand against his helmet.

A thunk beside him drew his attention away to Cara’s bag, resting by the door, her intent clear. He wasn't surprised. People like them got restless.

“You could come with us. If you wanted,” he offered after a moment, well aware of how much he had changed in so little time.

Her smile was soft, but sad as well, and he knew before she spoke that she was already set on leaving.

“I’ve got work to do here, Mando. But you never know, maybe one day…” she trailed off, trailing a hand against the door in affection.

“The offer is always open.”

“I know,” she said, reaching out to brush a finger over the child’s head. “Goodbye for now, little one.” Then, before he could work out what was happening, she had pulled him into a hug. “Are you sure you'll be alright?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“Then you take care of each other,” she said next to his ear, then there was the slightest of pressure against the side of his helmet and then she was pulling away, reaching for her bag.

“See you around, _vod_.”

“See you round, brother.”

Hyperspace felt very quiet. Their course was set for a small planet in the outer rim that looked like a good place to lie low for a bit. He hoped there would come a day when they wouldn’t have to run and hide, but until then, he had a responsibility to look after the little one.

He also had a ceremony to complete.

He double checked that the controls were all set correctly and then he turned his attention to the cooing bundle sat in his lap. Carefully, he turned the child around so that they were facing each other, and pulled the amulet away from its mouth.

The child titled its head at him with a quiet noise, curious, its hands reaching to brush against his gloves. The child. His child.

This was it; there was no turning back now.

“ _Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad , ad’ika_.”

The words flowed freely, smoothly over his tongue and he almost sighed in relief. Whatever that hit had done to his brain, maybe it was not beyond repair.

The baby looked up at him, perhaps not understanding the words but something made him suspect that the little one understood the intent.

Then, his hands lifted to his helmet, lifted, lifted.

With a metallic clunk, he set the helmet down. The baby watched, head titling further to one side.

“Hello there little one,” he said, gently running one hand over his son’s ear. “It’s me, your _buir._”

The child chirped happily at the sound of his voice and nodded as though in confirmation and held up his hands.

He knew what that meant by now and he scooped the little one up raising him so they were level with each other. When the child reached for his face he fought the urge to flinch back from his touch.

As tiny hands explored his features he closed his eyes against the overwhelming nature of it all and slowly tipped his head forward until his head touched the child’s.

“I will keep you safe, little one. _Haat, ijaa, haa’it."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a traslations:  
> Ret'urcye mhi - goodbye; literally: "maybe we'll meet again"  
> Vod - sister / brother / friend  
> Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad – I know your name as my child (the words of the adoption ceremony)  
> ad’ika – son / daughter / little one  
> Buir - father  
> Haat, ijaa, haa’it – truth, honor, vision (words used to seal a pact)

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously though, someone give Mando a hug and a meal and a good nights sleep.
> 
> There will be more once I’ve had some sleep - promise!


End file.
